Shame (LeFou X Gaston)
by Pythonmelon
Summary: When LeFou finds himself at Gaston's home after a night of drinking, he decides to make the best of it, and convinces Gaston to help.


So yeah, this is my first lemon and probably my last. Hope you guys like it! I love this pairing~

"Alouette, gentille aluoette,

je te plumerai

je te plumerai le bec

je te plumerai le bec," LeFou sang quietly to himself, taking another swig from his beer stein. This was his fourth mug, freshly topped off and frothy. He giggled absently as the froth tickled his thin upper lip. The night was late and the last of the townsmen had left the bar, in exception of him and the bartender. He was sitting in Gaston's chair, sunk low with his big bare feet propped up on a side table he had dragged over. He snuggled into the thick furs that made it up, taking in the faint earthy smells of long-dead animals. And Gaston.

The smell of Gaston was something firmly imprinted into LeFou's memory. It was warm and also slightly musky from the animals he hunted and cleaned. That mentioned he also smelled ever so slightly like sheared copper. But mostly the large man smelled of sweat and testosterone, and nature. To LeFou it was a homey and arousing smell. He sniffed the furs again and nuzzled them with an affectionate sort of tiredness, accompanied by a half-conscious snore.

"Hey!" The bartender called. "I've got to get home, so I'm locking up. Time for you to head home."

LeFou blinked, his sleepy smiled replaced by a scowl. He took a final long swig of beer and let out a short belch. He slipped out of the chair and onto his butt in the floor. After some wrestling he got his shoes on and stumbled drunkenly. The little man made his way over to the bar and slid his frosted mug across to the tender, then changed his mind and took it back just before the man could grab it. The Frenchman poured the last of the beer down his cavernous gullet. He returned it.

"LeFou, you're drunk." The tender pointed out the obvious, chuckling. "Do you need me to have someone walk you home?"

"No." He hiccupped. "I can get home." The shorter Frenchman promised with a sly smile. In that sentence, only 'home' was slurred. A few years back Gaston had taught him how to keep from slurring his words while drunk. Though he had yet to perfect it, you had to admit LeFou was pretty good.

"Alright, but if you get lost, it's not my fault." He smirked at the little man.

LeFou waved him off with a laugh. His smile had returned. The man meandered outside and into the snow. He shivered slightly, wishing he had a coat. LeFou realized he was forgetting his scarf and ran back in before coming back to the square, swinging it over the lower half of his face. The drunken little man wrestled with the scarf for another minute, chortling to himself, and finally tripped onto the edge of the fountain. He then stood and got on his way home. His house, his childhood home, was just inside the forest's edge away from town, so about a mile walk.

He didn't especially like his home. It was in dire need of work. There was a terrible draft that often put out his fire while he slept, leaving him freezing. People wondered why he was so pale, or why his nose was swollen? That was your answer right there. It was a miracle he had yet to die of sickness. But at the moment LeFou was too drunk to care. He waddled along, beginning to sing to himself a personal version of the one he had sung to Gaston just a few hours ago.

"No one's been like Gaston,

A king pin like Gaston,

No one's got a cute cleft in his chin like Gaston!" He hiccupped before chortling shortly. LeFou then shivered, pulling his scarf and jacket tighter. The man made a scene of tucking his shirt back in, glad he was outside of town by now. He continued to sing.

The man was just finishing one more rambling line of the song. "No one's made feats like Gaston, no one's got a great big piece of meat like Gaston-" (Or, so he had heard. The Bimbettes spoke of it amongst themselves often.) LeFou looked up from his indulgent singing upon noticing a patch of light. He supposed he was home, he was pretty sure he had been heading that direction, but why was the light on-

LeFou's eyes widened as he realized that this was not his cabin, but Gaston's. Warm light emanated from within. The man, in his drunken state, had wandered in the direction of his friend's home instead of his own. The Frenchman's cheeks turned red. He hadn't meant to come here. The man looked back towards the path home. It was dark. He shivered again, pulling his brown jacket around himself more tightly. LeFou adjusted his brown-and-yellow striped scarf and went up to the door. He swallowed and knocked.

The great man himself answered the door. "Hello?" The sleepy-looking Gaston looked around before noticing LeFou standing at full height right by his waist. He looked surprised. "LeFou! What are you doing here?" They needed to rest, there was work to be done tomorrow and he wanted his sleep if he was going to spend part of the day thinking of a way to foolproof his plan. The little he had done tonight had exhausted him already.

Seeing Gaston framed in the amber firelight from his living room, shirtless, it made him feel like wetting his pants. It made him think for just a second about just how drunk he WAS. But the train of thought dissipated when he hiccupped again. "You're drunk." The huntsman stated simply, making him the second in an hour to point out the obvious.

"I-I know." The shorter man nodded. "But it's cold." He shivered and rubbed his hands together to demonstrate. "And it's almost a half hour's walk home. C-could I stay here for the night?" He suggested.

The question was met with a sobering punch to the face. Another reason his nose was swollen. "That's for being too drunk to get to your own house." Gaston laughed good naturedly. "Now come on in." He had a guest bed, and LeFou had done plenty for him over the years.

LeFou followed, rubbing his nose sourly. Almost before he got to the bedroom he was stripping down to his undergarments, dropping all articles of clothing but his underpants. He shivered again as the taller man stoked the fire. This time, though, the shiver was uncomfortable apprehension. Well, that and the cold to. Gaston really needed some larger undergarments, he thought. They were a tad tight.

He swallowed. Gaston turned back around, the fire illuminating the perfect lines in his face. "That should be fine. Now go to sleep. You have to leave before anyone knows you were here." He began to leave. "I can't have anyone thinking I've gone _soft_." He joked, laughing, before leaving LeFou alone with his room. LeFou didn't think it was funny at all.

Climbing into the bed, the little man sighed. He snuggled under the covers, extraordinarily soft and cold from having never been used. He shivered slightly again and couldn't help but imagine Gaston showing up to the door in nothing at all…he drifted off to sleep.

LeFou awakened only a short while later from dreams of romance that made him sick to his stomach. He had to use the restroom. Getting up, the Frenchman tugged off the covers. He then realized he had somehow wormed out of his underwear in his sleep and quickly dug them out of the sheets, pulling them back on with an embarrassed sigh. He was still heavily drunk. After concealing himself, he went out into the cold to find the outhouse.

Soon the little man returned to the house. He peeked down the hall and couldn't help but peer into Gaston's room. He found himself, against his own will, entering. He looked at the paragon of manliness in childlike fascination. He was snoring, but not loudly. It was like a low gravelly him from within his gullet. LeFou approached, his chilly bare feet scraping across the wood. He peered more closely at his hero's face. Soon the drunken young man felt himself thinking of how deeply the hunter was sleeping. Then, whether it was his own conscious choice or not, he found his lips pressed against Gaston's sleeping ones, but only for an instant.

He began to run off, feet thundering, but froze in the hall. Gaston was moving. "LeFou? Are you awake?" He asked groggily.

The smaller man's face became red with shame. LeFou peered in the doorway. He looked small, young, like a child who had done something wrong. But what he had done was not just wrong, but unspeakable. He entered. "Y-yes Gaston?"

"Why were you in my room?" He didn't sound angry, just very tired. He didn't know that LeFou had kissed him then. He couldn't.

"Well, uhm…" LeFou blushed even more deeply. His face was now a lovely rose red. Gaston raised a suspicious eyebrow at him. "You were…uh… muttering about Belle in your sleep. Yes, that's it!" He said almost too enthusiastically. Maybe he had drunk even more than he initially thought.

Gaston paled. Had he been speaking of Belle in his sleep? He looked down at LeFou contemptuously. He had been having filthy dreams of the girl. He supposed, because of how much enjoyment he had gotten from it, he may have been talking… a little. "So what if I was?" He demanded after just a moment of thought, tugging the covers over to conceal himself after remembering the dreams and popping part ways up like a spring daisy. These undershorts really were much too tight.

But he pulled the covers up too late. LeFou had seen enough. He began to ease up onto the bed. A delicious idea had just come to him, the beer forcing him to voice his most secret desire. "You know…I've heard making love to someone while getting over being left helps …" He slurred. He had made up every word of that. But Gaston didn't have to know that. He never would.

The hunter backed away in more than obvious discomfort. "LeFou I will beat you senseless if you don't get off my bed. I don't need to forget Belle, I will be married to her. And further more-" He paused, a late reaction coming on. "What are you implying?"

LeFou smirked drunkenly. He couldn't help but giggle, and it came out acidic and girlish. "Gaston I'm trying to seduce you." He wagged a finger gently, his original timidness gone. Being so close to what he wanted so bad had given him unusual confidence. Well, that and the fact that he was still very wasted. Gaston reared back to hit him instead of leaning in, then reconsidered.

"That is vile." He spat and shook his head, backing away from the little man on his bed. "I had my suspicions that you were a deviant, LeFou, but now you're trying to convince me to make love to you-" He just shook his head angrily instead of finishing.

LeFou snorted. He crossed his arms. "So the great Gaston is too scared to dominate another man." Any sane man would have thought he had gone off the deep end and was still sinking. He was digging his own gravestone, knowing Gaston.

The slightly older, much more powerful man turned. His nostril's flared angrily. "I am not scared of ANYTHING. It is just WRONG." He reared back with a fist, but once again deflated.

The much shorter man shrugged thoughtfully. "Who would ever know? It's actually a victory for you, if you think about it," He reasoned, beginning to gush. "You're so attractive even men want you."

"Short, pale, and awkward men…" Gaston shook his head.

"Which just flatters how tall, dark, and handsome you are!" He snapped excitedly. He seemed to be breaking the hard, straight crust off of his friend.

The hunter crossed his arms, still not facing LeFou. He glanced back, thoughtfully, after a minute. He looked at his sidekick curiously. "It would be just once, right? You would never ask me to do it again?"

"Of course." The other Frenchman shook his head, as if the idea was appalling. But it was only to break Gaston down further. He was so close now, and sure that if they were ever given a chance Gaston would be more open to a second run. He just had to hear those words out of his mouth-"

".…Just once." Gaston said flatly, turning. "Because you're drunk. And because I can't get the thoughts of Belle out of my head." He smirked as LeFou practically squealed and jumped off the bed. "But I swear to you if you ever tell I will personally make sure you get eaten by the wolves in the dark forest." He said.

LeFou nodded enthusiastically, his untied hair flying. He began to drop his shorts. "Gaston you won't regret this, you're the best" He began to gush even more than before.

The hunter rolled his eyes. "I know." It was impossible to tell which part of the comment he was answering to, maybe both? He didn't drop his shorts yet. He was not yet up. The man glanced down and realized that LeFou already was. He must have been waiting for this for a very, very long time. "You're a filthy little man." He smirked.

It made the smaller man stop. He pulled his undergarments back up around his hips. He then blushed, realizing how uncomfortable he was with his own body. Gaston approached, swaggering. He picked his sidekick up and sat him on the bed, facing him. Then the swagger was gone as he waited on LeFou to do something to make this worth his while. He still had no idea how this was supposed to work, between two men… Did LeFou even know? As far as he knew the little man was a virgin.

But in fact, LeFou was not. He occasionally received the sloppy leftovers of a kissing session Gaston had treated one of the Bimbettes to when he was not in the mood to take them to bed. Each of these three encounters- one with each girl, who all had different tricks up their sleeves- had been wonderfully pleasurable but still not quite the same as what he wanted from Gaston. If anything it had just prepared him for this once-in-a-lifetime encounter.

Before Gaston could get impatient the other Frenchman worked out exactly what was best to do first. He repositioned himself to a more work-worthy position of the bed and looked up at the man standing before him dreamily. He then thrust one of his meaty fists in between the hunter's legs.

The hunter gasped. Fireworks went off in front of Gaston's eyes. LeFou was working his inexperienced fist against his loins, moving upwards. The smaller man's fist tried to wrap around his growing length, grasping for purchase over his underwear. He looked terribly determined. Gaston gasped and grabbed his shoulders, digging his digits into LeFou's flesh. The smaller man hardly noticed. He cupped the base Gaston's length in one hand and yanked upward. The other Frenchman could have sworn that his childhood friend had suddenly gained enough super strength to rip his manhood right off. He was far from shocked see that the pain was stemming from the fact that he was being crushed by his too-small underpants.

He moaned and the smaller man looked up. He grinned. So Gaston was enjoying it. LeFou took this as a chance to roughly yank down the shorts, ripping them, and exposing his length. The hunter moaned again, shocked by the sudden cold air, and LeFou knew he had him. He was too determined to be frightened by the sheer size of it, reflected on the wall by the fire. He decided to put his second trick to use.

The hunter, lost in his own world where this wasn't so filthy… where it was actually wonderful… was suddenly ripped back into the real world. He gasped and realized that his penis, which had been reaching happily almost all the way to his bellybutton straight up, had disappeared into LeFou's mouth. The hand LeFou wasn't balancing himself with was still clutching Gaston's balls. Now he was squeezing them. Gaston just dug his fingers deeper into his partner's shoulders, leaving marks that would be painful bruises in the morning. But it didn't really matter now anyway.

The tiny Frenchman was also lost. His eyes were closed, he couldn't meet the others man's now. He was in his own world. He ran his tongue up and down the shaft, tasting the musky smell. It was like an extreme version of the chair he had nearly fallen asleep in just a few hours ago. He had never tasted something so delicious. The thick, coarse, black hair intensified it even more, suffocating him in the scent.

That's about when the paragon started trying to pump his way in and out of the one opening he had been allowed into thus far. He was so close that it no longer mattered who he was with or why, or what the morning would bring- but LeFou hadn't gotten his service yet and wasn't letting the swell he felt between his teeth become anything more than just that until he got his end of this, though he would have been content to burn in Hell even if this was all he got. But he knew he could get more. He was cocky enough to try, anyway.

Gaston snorted and gasped again when cold air suddenly met his heat like an electric shock. "What was that for?!" He demanded at LeFou, but the little man was too busy at his own work. He didn't want to lose precious time or length. LeFou, no longer bothered by how he looked, had wormed out of own shorts. They were stained right where his (like him, rather short and pale) manhood had been pressed against the cloth. He smiled brightly before laying down, pretty sure the insinuation of what he wanted was enough.

Gaston got the message. He took a second to think, and decided that his friend's advice was right. After all, LeFou had taken his dreams of Belle and made them a reality, as he had taken his piece of usual wood and turned it into smoldering iron. Without a word, he grunted and started trying to find his way into the much smaller man's opening. After a moment he dug his fingers into LeFou's hips and forced it in.

LeFou gasped and couldn't help but let out a little scream. But still, there were no words, just the searing rod of his hero's flesh up his bum. He sank his fingers into the blanket and yelped again, practically crying into the sheets. It burned so badly, hurt so much. He felt like his stomach was going to explode. It was wonderful. His dreams, drunken or not, come true. The pain and rawness only increased tenfold as Gaston finally managed to begin pumping in and out. His strained grunts were enough to let his partner know that he wasn't far from done.

And he had been right on the assumption. It didn't take long for him to feel on final, forceful punch to the innards and a cry, and actual _cry_, from Gaston, directly followed by a hot and sticky spray of seed. He couldn't hold his in any longer either and spilled out onto the sheets. Both let out a long, contented moan before sprawling onto the bed together. LeFou found himself tucked up against Gaston's chest and nuzzled him gently. The other man, eyelids drooping from exhaustion, took no heed. LeFou took the chance to kiss him. By the time he pulled back his partner for the night was snoring.

Equally tired but still with enough gumption to move, the smaller man crawled out of bed. His insides felt warm and sticky, and he was pretty sure he had begun to bleed. But it didn't hurt, not really anyway. He was too happy for it to hurt. He tucked Gaston in and kissed him a last time, picking up his shorts. "I love you." He managed in a voice that was so weak it was barely a whisper. The Frenchman went back to his own room and slept the best he ever had.


End file.
